What's in a Dog Name

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 I've recently read several articles about dog names. Some have been humorous; some explored why we name our pets what we do.  Some have been simply informational.  They all got me thinking about my own dogs and their names.

My first two childhood companions were Blackie Duke, a black Lab, and Skippy, a Cocker Spaniel.  Both named by my mother.

The first dog that I was allowed to name was my childhood Beagle, Snoopy.  I think the inspiration for that name is pretty obvious (Thank you, Charles Schultz).  Because I was in elementary school, that name had to be approved by my parents.

The true test of my dog naming abilities came with my very first "just mine" dog, Benji.

Adopted from an animal shelter while I was still in college, Benji was named after Benjamin Franklin.  Because Benji was a mutt, I remember wanting a very American name that reflected the melting pot nature of our country.  (Seriously.  I thought like that back then.)

Next came another shelter dog, Sherman. I was generous enough to allow the Dog Daddy to select his name (with my wholehearted approval.)

Sherman was named after Sherman T. Potter of television series MASH fame.

When we adopted our black Lab mix from a shelter, I was certain he would grow up to be a chunky, blocky, hunky fellow.

I named Spanky after that fellow on the right of Lil Rascals fame.  Friends told me I should've used Buckwheat.  Maybe so.  Spanky grew up to be a lean athletic fellow and never resembled a "Spanky" at all.

My Border Collie, Lizzy, showed up at our farm and chose me. 

There was no agony on my part about her name.  She just felt like a Lizzy immediately.  I didn't realize the meaning of her name until I decided to write this blog post.  As I'm fond of saying on Facebook about some images:  TRUTH!

Then came Tucker.  Excuse me while I pause to chuckle. 

He was another stray that chose us.  The Dog Daddy was not keen on adding a puppy to our family right then, so I wasn't sure we would keep him.  Since we had to rush him immediately to a vet, he needed a name fast.Tucker came to us from the road.  We named him for that road:  Tucker

Lucy's name was easy and I chose it solo.

Lucy B was named for my fifth great grandmother, Lucy Bays Bingham who was born in Virginia in 1778 and moved to Indiana in the 1820's.  On the bottom right you can see her cabin which is now in the Indiana University Mathers Museum.  Though I'm not sure my ancestor would appreciate it, Lucy B was named as a tribute.

Jeffie has a big name to live up to and, frankly, there was a lot of debate about it in our house.  The Dog Daddy was persuasive.

Jeffie was named after Dog Daddy's all-time hero:  Thomas Jefferson.  Depending on present company, we also acknowledge a smidge of Jefferson Davis influence, but that's another story!  

Our poor yellow Lab puppy spent a few weeks with no name at all while we agonized.  Lists were made.  Names added; names crossed off.  When the Dog Daddy began threatening to call him Tator, I knew I had to do something fast.

I'd always wanted to name a dog after my favorite childhood story book, but I wasn't sure the name fit.  Rudy is named after Rootie Kazootie.  Little did we know that as Rudy grew up and "explored" the yard that I needn't have worried. Rootie would have been quite appropriate.


Hmmm...  a little bit of history.  Some popular culture.  Some genealogy and fond reminiscence.   A few snap decisions;  a few that took quite a bit of time.   

Is there a theme or pattern to how we've named our dogs?  

Perhaps it is simply that it is important to us.  Important to somehow reflect ourselves in combination with the bundles of love that are our best friends.  

New Puppy Blues at For Love of a Dog Jewelry

Rudy Kazootie considering his options.

My apologies.  I didn't intend to only blog about our dog jewelry this month.  However, I failed to factor in a new puppy.  Not only am I finding it difficult to blog, but to even have the time to upload and edit pictures of the puppy!  Now, that's sad.  That's why I called it the new puppy blues.

Puppy does now have a name:  Rudy.  Actually, it should be Rootie, because he's named after the children's book character Rootie Kazootie.  I just can't call a dog Rootie.  Just seems like bad karma.  We experimented for several days, or rather I experimented for several days with many names.  Too long, I guess.  I landed on Rudy when Gary repeatedly threatened to christen him Tator.   Actually, Tator is a cute name, but like Rootie, I just couldn't see introducing people to my grown dog, Tater.

This is, of course, Rudy's first Christmas.  Like all puppies, his life is filled with "no - no" and "NO!" with some extra expletives thrown in once in awhile.  Like when the glass garland on the Christmas tree caught his eye.  In a split second he was on it like a duck on a june bug and began backing off from the tree, garland firmly in his mouth.  Luckily he already knew "NO!"  

Rudy got his first snow storm a couple of days ago.  Only about 2" but the drifts made up for it.  He's spent the last two days locating drifts and either pouncing into them or plunging his head into them.  Tucker and Lucy watched with jaded, aged eyes.  They enjoy it, but seem to shrug off his excitement.  Jeffie watches with wonder.  He dances and prances and I can't help but feel he's wishing the drifts were big enough to plunge his 100 pound body into.


Ready for a nap.

Raise your paw if you're bored yet.  You might as well have fair warning:  with a new puppy in our house, I'll be talking about it endlessly.  And if you're lucky my reflexes will be quick enough to capture some of this magic to share with you.